Too Far
by Professor Wolfie
Summary: "He's dead, she still can't believe it; only hours after his death, and it was still unbelievable. It was all over. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Tony went too far this time; he murdered him – killed him in the pure rage of battle. But now he was dead…" (MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!)


Too Far

He's dead, she still can't believe it; only hours after his death, and it was still unbelievable. It was all over. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Tony went too far this time; he murdered him – killed him in the pure rage of battle. But now he was dead…

….

Had it been hours or days? Everything had been a blur since he died. Yet there she was standing next to his cold, limp body in a morgue. His body lay on a metal table; he had been cut out of his clothes. His body had been cut open for the autopsy and then sowed back together. She knew that SHIELD had taken his organs to their lab for study, in order to make a new serum.

She couldn't help but think that had been disrespectful and selfish, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was already done. She ran her fingers through her long, fiery, red hair and looked at his body again, averting her eyes. She just couldn't look at his eyes. He really was dead. She had to believe, yet she somehow couldn't, even with all the headlines blaring, "America's Fallen Son" they were calling him.

Why couldn't they just call him by his name for once; hadn't they shamed him enough in the past weeks?

All of it was over; it has been all so pointless. He had called it right though … _if the government snoops with superheroes, more superheroes will die_. He had paid the ultimate price to get the message through to the government … and through Tony's thick head.

None of this would have happened if it weren't for the Sokovia Accords … if it wasn't for Tony…

God she couldn't help but hate Tony right now. Natasha … she hated him with a passion now. She hated the government; she hated anyone who helped Stark kill him; she hated herself for being on Stark's side before it was too late.

She loved this man. He had become her best friend; she didn't know him long enough for there to be anything more. Yet she couldn't help but think _if they had more time, perhaps_. Natasha wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the softness of her warm sweater in a cold room filled with dead bodies.

This was never meant to happen! There was never a plan to kill him. Yet Tony did. And he was getting away with it because it was, _"in the government's best interest at the time."_ The president had, oh so annoyingly, stated in his public address about his death. _Death, let's call it what is was – murder!_

Tears built up in her eyes as she looked at his pale face. She looked away and saw Tony watching from outside the window of the door to the morgue. Natasha clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white.

 _Stark's got nerve to come here – now!_

All she wanted to do now was tear out his throat. Maybe she should just shoot him and be done with it.

Natasha looked at his body one last time and let out a small sob, covering her mouth with her hand as a tear slipped down her face; her face contorted in sorrow. She closed her eyes and rushed out of the room, right past Tony.

….

A short time after Natasha left, Wanda walked into the morgue with Ta'chella in tow. He glared at Tony, who was still standing outside the room, as he walked past. Wanda's red face suggested she had been crying for quite some time. Her hands were still covered with his blood. She had tried to save his life after Tony did what he did.

Ta'chella had switched sides during the Civil War. He eventually fought for the side he truly thought was right. He had made a friend that he would remember forever … a friend who perished before his very eyes.

Wanda walked up to the morgue attendant, who looked at the two and nodded. She walked to one of the metal doors and opened it, pulling the handle of the metal table out. The body was covered head to foot with a clean cloth. There was a tag around his big toe, identifying him by name, age, and cause of death.

Ta'chella wrapped his strong arm around Wanda's shoulder and she leaned her head against him, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, knowing the crying was about to take hold of her once again.

The attendant gently lifted the blanket to reveal his face. Wanda let out a sob and Ta'chella looked away. With that the morgue attendant exited the room, leaving Wanda and Ta'chella to have their privacy with their fallen comrade and friend.

"Oh my god…," Wanda sobbed; tears began to fall down her face. "He's really gone." Her father figure, the man who taught her to control her powers was dead. The same man who killed her parents also killed this man. How could this happen?

"God, had nothing to do with this," Ta'chella whispered and let go of Wanda. He walked closer to the table with the body. He sniffled a bit and held back the tears, "I am so sorry my friend," his accent seemed thicker as he tried to hold down the lump in his throat. "Huenda pembe kukuongoza nchi ya maziwa na asali," he said in Swahili. He walked over to Wanda, who could still only stare at the body. He led her, sobbing, out of the room and the building.

….

(Song Suggestion: Hurt - Johnny Cash)

Bucky and Clint had come and left together, trying to console one another. Bucky was too unstable to handle the emotions flooding in his head; he left the room with tears streaming down his face.

He was glad she finally left, glad everyone was gone. He knew that Natasha would never forgive him for what he did today. _Why should she?_ Tony sighed and finally gained the courage to walk into the room, looking at the body of a man he called friend – the man he murdered.

Tony figured that each Avenger would visit, to see what he had done to their friend. He got a lump in his throat and tears welled up in his eyes, just thinking about it.

Sam Wilson walked in the room slowly, jaw clenched and eyes wet. He walked to the table and looked at the body. Sam looked down quietly whispering a prayer. When he lifted his head, he was looking directly into Tony's eyes.

Tony looked ashamed. "I oughta kill you," Sam stammered between anger and heartbreak, trying to hold back his own tears.

Tony looked at him, "I …"

Sam interrupted him, "But I won't stoop to your level, you know the level I mean. The lowest of the low, where you kill someone you called your friend…" And with that, Sam stormed out.

Tony watched him leave and let out a guilty sob, "I'm so sorry …"

He looked at the body as tears slipped down his face. He pulled a chair next to the table that held the body. Tony wiped the tears off his cheek and his breathing hitched as he cried, "I went too far…"

"It wasn't worth it…"

….

Three days later they were burying a hero at Arlington National cemetery.

It was pouring rain, but that didn't stop the president, most of congress, thousands of citizens, at least 50 TV news crews, and every SHIELD agent from attending his funeral. Even with the mass of umbrellas, everyone was soaking wet. Everyone but the pastor was silent in their mourning.

A massive statue of him had been erected at the site of his burial. The image showed him strong and happy, something he hadn't been for quite some time before his death. An American flag covered his coffin. Natasha moved forward to drop a rose on the coffin and then she disappeared back within the crowd.

Tony stood in the very back of the crowd as a pastor spoke. His guilt ridden mind would only allow him silence and tears. He could still taste the bourbon in his mouth. He was drunk again. No, not again – still. That was the only way he could cope. He had to get himself drink to have the courage to attend the funeral without having a breakdown. He was deep in his own thought and sorrow when he heard something that amazed him. "…Tony Stark is the first to speak … Mr. Stark." Tony had written a speech but the booze had made him forget he had told the pastor he wanted to say a few words. Now, he had to stand in front of all his friends, the media, the government, and the citizen and talk about the friend he had killed. He walked forward slowing, pulling the papers from his suit pocket, hoping he wasn't too drunk to read his own handwriting.

Everyone was looking at him. Everyone had different looks and their faces and in their eyes. Some were angry, even furious; some were sad; others seemed indifferent; most, though, were tear filled. Tony never expected this. He looked down and walked forward, staring at his shoes, up to the podium. He looked at the crowd of sad and hateful eyes.

"I, uh," he slurred and looked at the papers, swallowing a sob, not wanting to cry…

There were quiet murmurs of his drunkenness.

He looked down and sighed, dropping the papers. Tony's eyes were glassy, his face contorted with sorrow, a frown that didn't suit his eccentric personality, "It … wasn't supposed to be this way…"

"I knew that he and I would probably never speak again. But I thought … I thought, because I was saving lives, that it wouldn't matter," He stuttered. "I thought we would both go our separate ways and never speak again. And we both would continue to save lives."

Tony sobbed, "I never intended … I never wanted to kill him," he stammered, tears streamed down his face as he sobbed.

"I killed Captain America. I killed my friend!"

"I never meant to, but I did," Tony continued to sob. The crowd showed sympathy towards him. Natasha, for once, looked at him and looked down.

"I killed Steve Rogers!" He yelled drunkenly and angrily.

"But I never wanted to…"

* * *

 **Now im not making Tony the bad guy, im really not. But I needed to make it emotional, I jst want the Civil War to end in a truse, but I really don't think it will.**

 **Anyway, sorry for breaking your hearts! This will be the last one shot I release until the end of my upcoming story Avengers Special (Up for a name change)**


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